


Silmarillion Vignettes

by Pallas_Athene_Lawrence



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aseanarmo, Epesse, Feanoriel, Feanorion, Freeform, Kuldafinwe, Major angst and hurt, Might turn into a full book at some distant point, Quenya, Quenya Names, Still tagging as the story progresses, Twin sister, Vignette, What if Maedhros had a twin, fucked up elves, just some short imagines and such, not really a fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24106783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallas_Athene_Lawrence/pseuds/Pallas_Athene_Lawrence
Summary: Just a place to drop my vignettes of my OC in the Silmarillion. I won't update very often, seeing as I have another full time fic to work on.Just snippets of the most pivotal points of Kuldafinwe "Cullassel" Aseanarmo Feanorion's life. With lots of crying and death, a per course of the Silmarillion...Drop a comment if you want to see a specific interaction with any character in the Tolkien universe.
Kudos: 2





	Silmarillion Vignettes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vignette of Maeglin/Lomion's death.
> 
> The backstory is somewhat alluded to, but will be painted in a better picture later on. Not a friendly fic to those who haven't read the Silmarillion a few times.

I’m rushing over the ramparts as quickly as I can, chasing after them. Ahead of me is Tuor, sword brandished and shining against the flames. I’m losing energy, rapidly. I give a last burst of energy, trying to catch up to the four of them. What is Lomion thinking! It’s like Feanor all over again. This is madness, and I feel that it will end just the same as my sires campaign. Movement draws my attention. Lomion has stopped running. He’s holding Idril and Earendil, knives positioned at both their throats. I continue to run, hoping to get there in time to stop this madness.

I see Tuor reach them first, still wielding his sword before him. I’m so far away, but I can make out his words. 

“Maeglin, let them go!” He yells as he comes within a few meters of Lomion and his captives.

“No!’ Lomion screams back “Too long have you been the bane of my existence. They told me I couldn’t have Idril, but they gave her to you. A mortal, with no family or wealth. A former slave! Who are you to compare to me. I have lost all that I knew in coming to this kingdom, only to lose the love of my life to a pathetic Man!” Madness seeps through his voice. This isn’t him, these are not words that Lomion would use. I knew that I felt a familiar evil on him since he found the secret exit in the valley. He was much changed in these past months. Growing steadily darker and more irrational. I thought that perhaps it was just a consequence of his trauma, and of Turgon’s rejection of him. I see now that he carries the same darkness as the evil being that are attacking our city. But I also see the fear in his eyes. The same fear that shone in Amras’ as he lay dying all those years ago.

As Tuor readies himself to attempt to get Idril and the babe away from Lomion, a great tremor shakes that walls we stand on. The force of it knocks us all to the ground. When Lomion fell, he dragged his captives with them. However, I saw him drop his knives as they fell, stopping himself from cutting either of his captives. Surely, the boy must not want to kill either of them. There is something not right about this all.

As the tremor comes to and end, all of us right ourselves as quickly as we can. Idril grabs her son, and kicks Lomion in the chest as she scramble up, putting distance between the two of them. Lomion and Tuor both grab the weapons that they drop during the earthquake. I am the last one up, and by the time I pull myself to my feet, I can see that the two males have begun fighting. Using the parapets to stabalise me I continue to move forward, albeit much slower than before. Shakily walking, I watch the fight some meters still ahead of me. Parry and slash, back and forth they trade blows. Lomion is moving slower than his usual pace, looking terrified. Even though he is a strong smith, he is still shorter than Tuor, making for an uneven match. I continue to watch the action, steadily getting closer. When I come within twenty feet of the fight, Tuor slashes and knocks the knives from Lomion’s hands.

All too slowly, I watch it happen. Tuor drops his sword and grab Lomion by his collar. He lunges towards a broken section of the outer wall behind Lomion. My hearing cuts out as screams and roars echo all around, but I can make out those words that haunt my waking dreams. I have seldom since heard such malice and hatred in a voice. 

“Greet your father for me.”

I can see the fear in Lomion’s eyes, as he’s dangled at the edge of the wall. He’s grasping and clawing at Tuor’s hands at his neck. Tuor looks Lomion in the eye, and let’s go of him.

Adrenaline over takes me. I sprint to where Lomion just stood, shoving Tuor away harshly. I drop to my knees in abject horror as I watch my boy fall once...twice...three times over the rocks below. His scream echos over the valley. I echo his cries with my own wailing. Weeping for the loss of yet another child in my care. Why? What cursed has been placed on me that I’m doomed to lose those I am meant to protect. I think I’ve hit my breaking point. Shouldn’t I throw myself away now? Anything to break this curse. There’s no one left to miss me. My cousin and Idril never cared for my presence. Lomion was the only one of my family here that cared for me. Now he’s gone, dashed upon the stones of this cursed place, like his father before him. 

I don’t feel myself falling forward, but suddenly my motion is halted by a pair of scarred arms. Tuor. He lifts me back up to rampart. He’s the reason that child is dead. A child! A mistreated, scared and scarred child. I’m the only one that accepted Lomion in this place. Me! His uncle didn’t care for him. Turgon tossed him to me to raise, sickened by the childs resemblance to Eol. I feel the ice of my heart start to burn as rage storms within me. Beside me, Tuor is checking over his wife and child. He just killed my boy, my son. I feel my stoic facade snap. With a great roar, I grab one of Lomion’s daggers that he dropped. I scramble to my feet and rush towards Tuor. I hack and slash with a feverish gait, not hitting any of my attacks. Tuor is dodging every one of my erratic moves.

“You!’ I scream, my voice cracking with rage. “You killed him!” I push forward, still yelling. “You bastard, you killed him. You could have knocked him out, or detained him!” In my rage, I manage to slash across his arm. The blood that drips down only fuels my bloodlust more. Yes, that’s what this is. Bloodlust. Such a funny thing to experience now of all times. Dare I say father would be proud. I hear Idril yell in fear as she watches Tuor stumble back. Incoherent to her cry, I push my momentary advantage. “You took away my precious boy. Dashed him upon the rocks like a murderer!”

Tuor chooses this moment to push me back. “That ‘boy’, wanted to murder my son!” He rages. “I did what I did to protect my family.”

“And in doing so, you took away the child that I loved like a son!” I land another hit, this time to Tuor’s cheek. “I cared for him when no one else would. Did you even take a moment from your rage to see the fear in his eyes the entire time?” I’m slowing down. My body is giving up, all of this is becoming too much. “Perhaps! I should take your son away from you!” My swings are slowing, making it easier for Tuor to dodge. My limbs are shaking, and my breathing is becoming shallow. Stopping, I decide to turn my attentions elsewhere. I now point the knife towards Earendil, who is crying in Idril’s arms. “How about we make it fair? A son, for a son. Mhm?” I think I’m starting to fragment. My breathes have turned to gasps, and all my muscles are tensed. Tears and snot are streaming down my scrunched face. Someone needs to die, to rectify my loss.

“You crazed bitch! How dare you threaten my son!” Tuor bellows. “You are no better than that touched ‘son’ of yours. Tainted filth, Feanorion spawn! I should send you to greet Eol, and his bastard too.”

“Do it!” I screamed with all my might. “Kill me, let me die!” I fall to my knees, clutching Lomion’s knife to my chest. “I want to die. I want this curse to end.” I look up at Tuor through my tears. “Every child I’ve cared for has died, in some horrible way. If I die, then I won’t have to get any more children killed!” I lower my head, which is too heavy for me to carry. My breathe still comes in gasps, but is now stuttered with my sobs. “K..kill me, t..t...Tuor. Send..d me to...to..the Void with...my fa...father.”

“I won’t.” I flinch. My head jilts down, tucking my chin nearly to my chest. “I won’t kill you.” He says. “Not because I can’t do it, but because I want you to feel this pain for as long as you live.” I don’t move or look up, but I can feel his movements as he walks over to his family and gathers them up in his arms. “I want you to live with the knowledge that the child you raised turned to Morgoth, and betrayed you personally.” My sobs turn into wails and screams as Tuor leads his family away, likely going to find a safe passage out of the valley. Once again, I am left with no family to lean on, while that Man walks away with his family intact. I weep and wail for the young boy, bleeding against the rocks. For my husband, ripped open by the Balrogs claws. And I cry for my lover, who lies drowned in the waters of the fountain that we used to sit and sing at.


End file.
